


Already Smitten

by orphan_account



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Weekly Challenge, lyatt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 15:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was a grey blur the first time he saw it, moving through the rain from dumpster to dumpster, desperate to keep dry. He noticed it, but didn’t think twice. Just another large rat, or stray cat. Not unheard of in the parking lot at Mason Industries.Fill for OfficerParker's "A stray kitten shows up at Mason’s warehouse and Wyatt is quite taken with it" prompt.





	Already Smitten

 

It was a grey blur the first time he saw it, moving through the rain from dumpster to dumpster, desperate to keep dry. He noticed it, but didn’t think twice. Just another large rat, or stray cat. Not unheard of in the parking lot at Mason Industries.

 

* * *

 

It was more defined the second time, huddled beneath a dumpster the next night, curled up, dark grey, looking tiny from the water weighing down its fur. The rain still fell steadily, sluicing down the metal, creeping ever closer to two tiny, shivering paws. It watched him with big, scared eyes, and he stopped, pulled his coat tighter around his body, and felt a twinge of sadness for what he now realized was a kitten.

“You can’t live here,” he told it, receiving a pitiful squeak of a meow in reply. He sighed. “I suppose if you have no choice though.”

He shook off the water from his clothes, got in his car, and glanced back, just once, at the ball of fur beneath the trash.

Everyone deserved a home to go to.

 

* * *

 

It squeaked at him on a Friday. He hadn’t seen it in over a week, assumed it had moved on, but then Friday night, on his way to his car, he heard it. That same sad, lowly meow. He stopped, and it watched him from behind the back tyre of Lucy’s car.

“You can’t hide there, little grey,” he said, the description slipping out. Too late, he realized, he’d probably just accidentally named the thing. It meowed in response, more vehemence behind it this time, and he felt like he’d just been argued with. It didn’t budge. Unable to allow it to be accidentally hit when Lucy left, he shooed the kitten away as best he could. But it didn’t go far. Just stopped, beneath another car, big eyes focused on him.

And he felt bad.

 

* * *

 

He felt so bad, he left Mason Industries on Monday evening with the remains of his chicken salad. Vending machine dinner, that had been a little too bland for him. No spices, no dressing, just cooked chicken in lettuce between two slices of bread. After 18th century food he’d been craving something a bit more interesting, but he knew someone who would appreciate it.

He glanced around, checked no one was watching him, and then placed it down, beneath the smaller of the dumpsters, the one that allowed for a snug hide-out.

Standing back, at his car, he waited before getting in, watching as a tentative grey ball of fluff sniffed out the food and tucked in.

He didn’t see Lucy quietly watching him from inside her darkened car.

 

* * *

 

He called Jess’ younger sister on a Tuesday, but Beth only sighed sadly and said, _Shelter_ _’_ _s full. I_ _’_ _m sorry, Wyatt_. She paused, and he heard her smile through the phone. _Jess is up there laughing at how soft you_ _’_ _ve become._

He grumbled an _I know_ , thanked her, and hung up. He stared at the dark screen of his cell, contemplating his next move.  

“Adopt it.”

Wyatt spun around at Lucy’s voice, to find her standing in the dark lot, grinning at him.

Busted. So very busted.

“Adopt what?”

She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, making it clear she didn’t buy his feigned innocence for a second. “The kitten you’ve been feeding for a week now.”

“You have no proof,” he said, stuffing his phone in the pocket of his jeans and unlocking his car.

“I saw you pet it yesterday.” She smiled. “It trusts you. Take it home.”

“And do what with it?”

Lucy shrugged. “Be a cat owner.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? You’re already smitten.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Take a leap, Wyatt. Make it official.”

“I don’t have time for a cat.”

She huffed out a soft laugh. “Cats are easy.”

“And when we’re away for days at a time? Or, god forbid, get stuck in the past?”

“I’m not even going to consider that second one. And I’m sure Jiya would be happy to feed him.”

“I just don’t know,” he said, releasing a sigh. “Cat’s aren’t really my thing.”

“Mmmmhmmmm,” Lucy replied, unconvinced.

Changing the subject, figuring since she was ready to leave anyway and probably just as starving as he was, he said, “I have a real need for some deep-dish pizza right now. You in?”

“Yes,” she said, her hunger making her response endearingly enthusiastic. “That sounds really good.”

They took two cars, but he led the way, realizing then she had never been to his place before. Realizing he really liked the idea of her hanging out there for the evening.

Wishing he’d had the balls to ask her over sooner.

 

* * *

 

She slept on his couch that Tuesday. Pizza had morphed into tacos, after a change of mind halfway home, but Lucy hadn’t minded. Fish tacos, beer, and a dumb action movie on the TV. It had been different for them, but nice. The start of a shift in their relationship.

Wyatt had kept a respectable distance as she’d toed off her shoes and curled her feet up under her, sipping on her beer with her eyes trained on the screen. But his eyes had strayed her way, and he’d found himself wrapped up in the comforting wistful embrace of _what ifs_ as he watched her curl tighter into herself, the beer bottle now discarded on the coffee table, her chin dipping as she gave in to sleep. At any time she could have pushed herself to her feet, stretched, bid him goodbye, and gone home. But she’d stayed, almost becoming one with his couch, trusting him enough to allow her eyes to close with the sounds and flickering of the TV following her to her dreams.

He’d tucked a blanket around her, and only then had he allowed his fingers to graze her shoulder. Only then had he touched her.

 

* * *

 

_She trusts you._

_Take her home._

_You_ ' _re already smitten._

_Take a leap._

_Make it official._

* * *

 

He ended up with a cat on Thursday. Slipping out while Lucy was still wrestling with her corset, he coaxed the little grey kitten out with more vending machine sandwiches, bundled it into his jacket, and drove directly to Beth’s. Wormed, bathed, and fed a proper meal, Beth handed him the sleepy fur ball and announced his new status as a cat owner. Grumbling, he left her place - to find Lucy at his front door.

“Sorry,” she announced as he exited his car, noticing that he seemed a little on edge with her presence. “I didn’t mean to just show up. I left my coat here Tuesday night.”

“It’s fine,” he said. With a sigh, he opened the back door and reached in. “You would have found out eventually anyway.”

Lucy frowned at him from across his drive. “Found out what?”

He eased the carrier out, and closed the door, and revealed his secret.

The small squeak from the carrier told Lucy everything. “Oh my God.” She grinned.

He held the carrier in one hand, and rubbed the back of his head with the other, feeling a little sheepish. “Yeah.”

“You actually did it.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head at himself as he stepped past her and opened his front door. He gestured for her to enter. “Want a drink?”

“I really just came for my coat.”

“Okay, but, do you want a drink?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

He placed the carrier down on the living room floor, and opened the front.

“Welcome home, little one,” Lucy said, her voice soft as she crouched down beside the couch and watched the kitchen tentatively sniff its new surroundings. “What’s his name?”

“I’ve been calling _her_ Little Grey.”

“That’s not a name, it’s a description,” Lucy admonished, standing again.

“Like Fluffy or Tabby?”

“Good point.”

He cracked the top off a beer and handed it to her, before gesturing to his couch. They both sat and watched as the kitten began exploring. “She’s stubborn, determined. Reminds me a lot of someone.”

The bottle stopped halfway to Lucy’s lips, and she turned, eyebrows furrowed. “You better not be—Oh, you are! You bastard.” She laughed.

He grinned. “Might be confusing having two Lucy’s around though.”

“So maybe don’t bring her into work with you.”

“I meant here.”

She swallowed down the implications. “You mean I’m invited back?”

“You’re always welcome here.” The words left his lips too soft, too sincere, and he couldn’t take them back.

Something flashed in her brown eyes, a hint of surprise mixed with something darker, something he dared think of as arousal, but as quick as it had flared she had blinked it away. “You’re sweet.”

“Shhh, don’t say that too loud, you’ll blow my badass cover.”

Lucy laughed. “You did that yourself, tonight. June 3rd: The day Wyatt Logan officially became soft,” she teased.

But to him, that happened October 3rd, 2016. The day he met Lucy Preston.

He thought it best to keep that to himself.

 

* * *

 

She slept in his bed on a Saturday, six weeks after she had first slept on his couch. She was dozing, her long limbs stretched out along the length of the couch, her toes dipping between his thigh and the cushion beneath him.  Little Grey was curled on her hip, still just small enough to balance there. Little Grey, not her actual name. Nor was she named Grizzle, Little Grey Poupon, Mushroom, or Princess Moans-A-Lot, after Lucy had vetoed them all. No, ultimately, he’d gone for something a little nerdier, with Lucy’s approval. Rey. Or Little Rey. Or Little Grey Rey. Depending on if he was home alone or not. Reckless, hothead Wyatt Logan, taken down by two bossy females.

Taken down, smitten, head-over-heels.

He’d been watching the two sleep, amazed by how they’d both become familiar bright fixings in his previously lonely, dim home. The tips of his fingers had danced across Lucy’s smooth cheek, brushing stray wisps of hair away from her face, when she’d stirred, leaned into his touch and nuzzled his palm.

“Hey,” he murmured. “You’re going to wake up with a sore neck.”

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice soft.

“I have a bed, with pillows. It’s yours. Come on.” He scooped Little Rey into his palm, cradling the kitten against his chest, while he linked his other hand through Lucy’s. She allowed herself to be eased off the couch, still half-asleep.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked, leaning against him as they shuffled through his home.

“Couch.”

She pursed her lips as she considered it, and allowed him to direct her sleepy form beneath the covers. But once she was tucked under the blankets, on her side, Rey stealing the corner of her pillow, she took hold of Wyatt’s hand with a dexterity he didn’t know she was capable of while in zombie-mode, and shook her head. “Stay.”

“Lucy…”

“It’s a big bed, Wyatt. We can share.”

She had slept on his couch four Saturday evenings in a row now; he had shared a bed with her before. No big deal. Right? Slipping his hand from hers, Wyatt moved around the bed and shimmied out of his jeans, but he left his boxers and t-shirt on.

"You comfortable enough?” he asked, tugging down the blankets on his side. “I can get you a shirt to change into.”

“I’m good,” she murmured, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

Smiling over at her, he eased beneath the blankets and lay on his back, one hand behind his head, mind on overdrive. Turning his head, just a little, he studied her dark waves fanning over the pillow. Unable to stop himself he reached out and gingerly ran the tips of his fingers along the silken strands. She stirred, and he stopped and held his breath. He pulled his hand back and closed his eyes as she shifted, as she turned to face him like a heavy drunk octopus, all squirmy, sleepy movements without grace. But when she touched him, there was nothing but softness, nothing but sweeping fingers and her warm, pliant body. He didn’t dare look as she melded herself to him, as her arm snaked across his waist and she nuzzled into his chest. Eyes firmly closed, he dropped his arm from behind his head and rested it over hers where it lay across his waist, but he didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare say anything that might spook her and end this moment he’d craved for so long now.

And in the morning, when she extricated herself from him, she didn’t comment on their tangled limbs. She merely tucked her hair behind her ears, smiled, and asked if he’d remembered to buy more coffee.

Like this was simply their lives now.

 

* * *

 

He took a leap on a Sunday, with Lucy in his bed, again. It was always where they seemed to end up now. Beer, take-out, a movie – and her spending the night. Rey had claimed the foot of the bed (and his house, and his heart) forcing them both to curl their legs up, and he awoke to find he was spooning her, her body curved back into his, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, holding her close to him.

They needed to talk about it, this sleeping arrangement that had become a routinely Saturday night thing. They needed to talk about how it was getting harder for him to sleep without her on the nights in between. They needed to talk about how he didn’t even invite her over anymore, how she just slipped into his car after Saturday missions and went home with him.

But he found talking hard.

Unable to form the words, he shifted and pressed his nose into her loose hair, inhaling the hints of her shampoo, his hands curling tighter at her stomach, bringing her body impossibly close to his. And he knew his need for her was obvious against her lower back, but he could blame mornings, just being a guy in general, if this all went south. Or, further south than it already was...

Lucy chuckled, her body shaking quietly against his, saving him from trying to figure out his first words. “And a good morning to you too,” she said, laughter in her voice.

He didn’t laugh. Too nervous for that, he nudged her hair aside with his nose, until his lips could press to her neck unhindered. She released a soft sigh at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

His lips, more confident now, explored her soft skin, and when they grazed her jaw, she turned in his arms and sucked her lower lip between her teeth, drawing his attention to her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she said, her voice a sultry susurrus of sleepy arousal.

Eyes drifting closed, he leaned in and claimed her lips; his hands travelled over her waist until his fingers stilled, splayed over her hip, and held her close. Rey, awoken by the disturbance, meowed in annoyance and then jumped from the bed, leaving them alone.

“Wow,” Lucy breathed out after pulling back. “We actually have the bed to ourselves.”

“We should make the most of that.” He kissed her again, sliding his lips over hers, capturing each breathy moan that slipped out between them.

She sighed as his mouth found her neck again. “You love her. Admit it, you big softie.”

“We still talking about Lady Grizzle-Who-Moans-A-Lot?”

She swiped a hand over his arm, laughing. “For your sake, I hope you were just talking about Rey.”

He laughed, but then his expression changed. A warmth spread out from his heart, until he was gazing at her with a reverence he’d only ever held for one other person before. “You’re not wrong, ma’am,” he said, reaching over and cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek. “I do love her,” he finished, before she threw her leg over his hip and stole any further words with her hot open mouth sliding hard against his.

 

* * *

 

 

(Two years later, they made it official)

 

(But she refused to take his name)

 

 _(_ _“_ _Lucy Logan? That_ _’_ _s almost as bad as Little Grey Poupon_ _”_ _)_

 

 

 


End file.
